


Runaway

by feyreofthewildfire



Series: In Our Bones [6]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Multi, Not Beta Read, do not need to read other fics, summary of other fics in beginning notes, trash trash trash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-02-17 21:09:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 17,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyreofthewildfire/pseuds/feyreofthewildfire
Summary: I hold out a calloused hand, “Live a little.”Her eyes sparkle, even with the disapproving expression on her face. “All you are is trouble, Archeron.”A wink, “You know me too well, Cali.”“Don’t call me that.”She places her hand in mine.-A series of nonlinear stories following the children of the Inner Circle.





	1. The Realization

**Author's Note:**

> 1) hello again my lovely humans!  
> 2) for now, this will be a one shot. we'll see if i have time over winter break to write more but it will be debatable  
> 3) i changed a few details from the end of "in our bones" and i apologize to continuing readers for that. please ignore that inconsistency as i'm going to go back and change that once this is published  
> 4) happy holidays!!! who knows, maybe i'll have a nessian christmas fic. maybe. no promises.
> 
> SUMMARY OF PREVIOUS FICS:
> 
> Nesta went to Scythia after the events of ACoWaR and met Fionn Ahlafares. They, inevitably, fell in love. He died. Nesta went back to Prythian and eventually married Cassian, but only after learning that Fionn was, indeed, her mate. Their son, Fionn (of the Archeron variety) is named after her deceased mate.

The Day Court had always had a special place in my heart.

As a child, the sheer contrast to my own home had caused endless fascination. Now that I an “angsty Illyrian teenager,” as my father and uncles put it, that contrast made it my favorite. Not that I didn’t love Velaris, but sometimes I needed a change of pace—a switch from the monotony that was training with my father and bickering with Stella. While fun, it became tiring to wake up and find the same thing every day.

I got more than I bargained for this time.

It wasn’t hard to talk Dad into taking me to the Day Court—he and Helion got on oddly well, given the fact that Helion had tried to seduce him for  _ centuries _ . I still hadn’t been able to wrap my head around that. It was hard to imagine the two High Lords of Day without each other.

The harsh daylight was refreshing after spending the last few hours amidst the bitter winds of the Illyrian camps. My wings had been glamoured and leathers exchanged for something a little more casual. Dad lived in his leathers, and I had never understood how. Sure, they were comfortable, but after too long they began to stick unpleasantly. 

I ached to sun my wings but didn’t dare reveal them on the balcony where anyone could look up and see. Our closest allies were Day, but it still seemed too strange to expose that part of me anywhere but home, atop of the highest peak in Velaris that overlooked the Rainbow. 

The muscles in my back shifted as though I was fanning out my wings, bringing a certain comfort. The visits to the camps always took a toll on me—it was bad enough that I was the son of their least favorite commander, not adding the fact that I was a half-breed. I’d learned long ago how to deal with the glares and insults, but for some reason, they’d left a particularly heavy weight on my shoulders this time. 

Dad had already retreated into some dining room with the two High Lords, already cackling at something Helion had said. I had immediately made my way up to my room and onto the balcony, hoping that the softer winds would calm me. So far, they hadn’t.

A loud crash sounds from the hallway and my hand reaches for a blade that’s not there—the one Mom had given me that had originally belonged to her mate. I never took it out of the Night Court, but even so, it was as if a limb was missing. 

Apprehensiveness rises within me as I approach the door of the guest room I was occupying for the night, magic rising to the surface in preparation for whatever was behind the door. Looking back, it was ridiculous to think that there was any unwanted danger in the home of a High Lord that would’ve gone unnoticed for this long, but instinct had overridden that.

I crack the door open as silently as I can, thanking Helion for finally buying those silent hinges from the Dawn Court as I do. The sound of sniffling—crying—becomes apparent as soon as the door is open. I relax and swing the door open all the way. Unlikely to be a threat, at the very least.

My eyes are greeted by deep red hair and tan hands—certainly not Day Court, then. Autumn, though the reasons  _ why _ there would be a member of the Autumn Court in this hallway was beyond me. The woman’s head shoots up at the sound of my footsteps, and I’m greeted with the infamous scowl of Calida Vanserra. 

But the scowl lacks any bite, and her eyes are wet with tears. It’s not hard to see her shaking hands or the way her eyes scan over the architecture as if she doesn’t know where she is. There was no way she was simply let out of the Autumn Court—why was she here? In fact, how did she get past the wards?

“You’re crying.”

Despite my so-called affinity for words, they seem to fail me now. I can almost hear Dad laughing at me. 

“Of course it’s you,” she snips. Calida turns away from me to glance out the window. “Where… where am I?”

“Day Court. Helion’s residence.”

I can’t see her expression, but the horror in her tone tells me enough. “Two whole courts?”

“Yeah, I was wondering how you managed to just appear in my hallway. Learn how to winnow? I thought your dear father wouldn’t allow it.” 

Calida spins on her heel, a glare narrowing her amber eyes. “Don’t speak of things you have no understanding of.” 

I put my hands in the air. “Apologies, princess.” 

“Why are  _ you _ here? I thought you’d be up in your perfect city like the rest of your family.” Her tone is bitter—almost jealous. I don’t blame her. I hadn’t been around when Velaris had been revealed to the rest of Prythian, but the rumors I hear every once in awhile tell me enough. What possible use could we have for a fountain of liquid gold?

“Wanted a change of scenery. Why are you here?” I shoot back, crossing my arms defensively. Something about Calida always had me on the edge—waiting for an attack. She usually delivered.

“Why do you care?” she bites, hands curling into fists defensively. Usually, she’s in the mood to tango. But… perhaps I had kicked a dog already down. Guilt sweeps through me in a wave, my perpetual annoyance with her dropping away for a few moments. 

I sigh, “Because, sometimes, I try to be decent. What happened?”

It seems I’ve asked the wrong question, however, because she nearly instantly deflates. Her chin dips the slightest bit and she clasps her right wrist in front of her. “I’ve only winnowed twice before—and it was only a few feet. Father reprimanded me and I…” she swallows nervously, “...I thought I had it under control.” 

My first instinct is to lecture her—give her a fast lesson on how magic does and doesn’t work. Nothing is under your control until you’ve learned every part of it, deconstructing and putting it back together. Suppressing it would only lead to a far worse consequence, and this was no exception. 

“I can grab Helion and he can bring you back,” I offer carefully. “Better him than anyone else. Last thing we need is an internal war.” 

Calida chooses to ignore my implication that Eris would start any sort of war over her whereabouts—though it’s less about her specifically and more so about letting go of the control he exercises constantly.  

I see her eyes swivel to the window again, widening just the slightest at the sight of the springtime flowers that have grown on the borders of the castle walls. It’s hard to forget that she rarely leaves her own court with the exception of the Assembly once a year—and that was held in the Dawn Court.

A horrible, horrible idea pops into my head. I smile, “Would you like a tour? Of the Day Court?”

Her head turns back around to look at me—the troublemaking smile on my face that no doubt raises her concerns. Calida had always been more sensible than me, after all. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

I shrug, “Be honest. How long until someone notices you’re missing?”

The cautious expression drops off her face, lips turning downwards the slightest bit. “Dinnertime, most likely. They’ll all assume I’m sulking in my rooms and leave me alone.”

I hold out a calloused hand, “Live a little.”

Her eyes sparkle, even with the disapproving expression on her face. “All you are is trouble, Archeron.” 

A wink, “You know me too well, Cali.”

“Don’t call me that.”

She places her hand on mine.

 

* * *

 

Somehow, I’d been roped into becoming her tour guide for the day—introducing her to wonders of the Day Court and a culture besides her own. A few people had given her strange looks as we walked by, and I’m sure that the news would travel back to Dad. While I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, I had somehow found myself enjoying my time with the only daughter of the Autumn Court.

As we walk through the shops I have to resist the urge to go into every single one. Bookshops upon bookshops line the streets, and I’m only able to go into one of them under the guise that I want to pick out a book for Mom. 

Calida had only nodded and followed, browsing the shelves herself with a poise that baffled me. The formality of the other courts wasn’t foreign to me, but it was as if her chin was permanently affixed to tilt downwards and her shoes glamoured to be silent—like she was taught to be silent, to not be seen or heard. 

But her shoulders are square and her posture tall, showing at least some sort of autonomy. I, admittedly, didn’t know much about her family—only that Eris’ conflicting opinions that were both simultaneously modernized and old-fashioned had created a juxtaposition of a daughter. Almost as fierce as my own mother, and yet simultaneously as meek as Calida’s own grandmother had been. It utterly baffled me. 

I tune back in to the sound of Calida’s laugh, one that reminds me of the way embers crackle in a fireplace. Nothing got past Helion in his own court, and of course, he’d sent a messenger to us—He wanted a full explanation later, but as long as no wars broke out he didn’t care. I had anticipated that, but it was nice to have a confirmation from the male himself.  

Calida had been lucky that she’d winnowed into the Day Court instead of one of the other six. Even in the Night Court, we would’ve immediately sent her back. Our relations were tenuous enough—we didn’t need to anger Autumn, but Helion seemed unconcerned with the opinions of his southern neighbors. 

Over the course of the day a small, tentative alliance had formed between us. Before I’d only ever seen the extremes of her—now I’d been exposed to the in-betweens, the different variations of her that existed between those extremes and I had found that I  _ liked _ those variations. More often than not they were funny and playful, strong and empathetic. 

Calida would’ve made a great High Lady, if not for the brother that had come after her and the strong traditions of the court she belonged to. 

We meander through the halls of Helion’s palace as I point out little nuances and greet various people walking by. Many of them recognize me. It seems that I spend too much time in the Day Court, but I didn’t exactly mind. 

Eventually, we arrive at the door of Helion’s study; where he’d said to bring her once our fun was over and it was time for her to go back to Autumn. The sun had just begun to set and, undoubtedly, her absence would be noticed soon. I loathed to let her leave. 

Calida turns to face me. “Thank you for showing me around. You’re not as insufferable as I thought you were.”

I shrug, “I get that a lot.” 

She rolls her eyes in an exasperated way that’s positively delightful. “Try  _ not _ to prove me wrong for once, would you?”

I lean against the pillar beside me and scrutinize her for a moment. She simply stares back at me with unrelenting rigor and a refusal to concede. I merely smile. Calida rolls her eyes again, something that she seems to do exclusively around me. 

“What?” I ask coyly.

“Fionn Archeron, you are nothing but trouble—” 

“I don’t believe I ever contradicted that statement.” 

“—but you’ve been kind today, and I thank you for that.” 

I blink twice, surprise flooding me. Gratitude was something I’d never seen from her. Even with how uncomfortable she looks, I know that the words hold truth. If there was one unwavering trait about Calida, it was that she always spoke the truth. 

“Why were you crying this morning?” The question slips out before I can stop it. As soon as it does, I want to bash my head into the marble wall beside me. Stupid, stupid, stupid. It seemed I was on a mission to ruin any and all progress I’d made with her today.

But she doesn’t shut down—instead, she lifts her chin and squares her shoulders. “My father has picked a husband for me.”  

Something inside me  _ snaps _ . 

Not in a violent way, like one may assume, but as if everything rights itself. It takes every instinct, every moment of training to keep myself from flinching or reacting. I know what it is. I know. There is no mistaking it.

Calida continues on, unaware. “And there is nothing I can do.” A heavy sigh escapes her as she turns and knocks on the door to Helion’s study. Footsteps can immediately be heard. 

The door swings open, revealing Helion on the other side. “Ready to go?” He stretches out a hand to her.

She nods once, though turns back to me for a moment. “Perhaps we’ll see each other again.” Then her hand is in Helion’s and they’re gone, only small bits of light left in their wake.

Calida Vanserra was betrothed to another.

Calida Vanserra was my mate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	2. Saturnalia (Christmas)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Am I dreaming? Am I so lost without her that my mind conjures her into existence?  
> Yes. The answer has to be yes. She can’t be here.   
> -  
> Fionn just wants his mate beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) hahahahahaha who needs nessian when you have your own ocs   
> 2) happy holidays everyone!!!!!!!!  
> 3) i've realized that christmas, or some form of it, probably doesn't exist in prythian, but i wanted to write cute christmas fluff. sue me.  
> 4) this takes place at some point after calida realizes they're mates. whether it's because fionn tells her or because she realizes it herself, that's up to you. i'll probably write that scene. eventually. maybe.   
> 5) please enjoy!!!

Something doesn’t feel right.

Saturnalia wasn’t something widely celebrated in the Night Court. After all, we liked to focus on the Winter Solstice instead. Partly because it was the longest night of the year, and partly because it was Aunt Feyre’s birthday. Saturnalia had simply gotten wrapped up into the two-week long celebration between the Solstice and the New Year and was, for the most part, ignored and forgotten.

But I feel the weight of the dagger in my hands, and all I can do is think about it.

The Autumn Court was far more Saturnalia-centered than we were. They had never cared much for the Solstice, preferring the Equinox, and therefore tended to celebrate their own version of the holiday. Mostly gift-giving.

The dagger in my hands is more ornamental than anything—this I can tell from simply holding it. It’s practically weightless and the blade is dull. Still, the sheer clarity of the gold blade and hilt is astonishing. I hadn’t been aware that the Autumn Court had such fine craftsmen, usually accrediting that to the Dawn Court, as many did. The inscription on the blade is in a language I don’t recognize and the hilt is decorated with various raised swirls and whorls.

Even with the happiness that floods through me, I can’t find it in myself to smile. I don’t want a gift. I want her, standing beside me on this balcony overlooking my home. Her absence leaves a nasty taste in my mouth, a feeling of emptiness inside of me. 

The last time I’d seen Calida had been the Assembly, where she’d hung on the arm of her fiance for the evening before coming back to me—her mate. Always, she came back to me. Even now, months later, I can smell the scent of cinnamon and citrus hiding throughout the townhouse, tucked into corners and hallways. 

Mating bonds were sacred—respected above any other commitment. I knew this. She knew this. If I came out and simply declared her my mate, her engagement would fall away and the Priestesses, no matter the amount of coercion from her father, would refuse to marry them without her consent. 

But Calida hadn’t asked me to do such a thing, and I respected her far too much to do it without her awareness. Making the announcement would be so simple; Mom could have it drafted within minutes and Uncle Rhys could had it distributed in even less time. Ten minutes. Maybe.

Besides, although she wouldn’t admit it, I was sure Mom already had a written announcement hidden away somewhere in anticipation. She was like that.

In the midst of my thoughts I reach out towards that mating bond, tugging on the string connecting us only the slightest bit. No words could be conveyed, given neither of us were daemati, but the pulse of comfort that comes back quickly is enough. We donn’t need words.

I sheath the blade and set it carefully in one of my drawers. No one was nosy enough to go through my things, except perhaps Stella, but she already knew about the mating bond. There would be no consequences of her finding out.

I didn’t want to even begin to think about the hoops my mate had to jump through to get this gift made and sent to me without her father knowing. For me, it’d been easy—with the entirety of the Night Court backing me, getting a set of sheet music from the show she’d seen in the amphitheater here all these months ago had been bafflingly easy. Even the custom violin hadn’t been all that difficult. 

_ Stop sulking and come downstairs. _

Stella’s voice invades my head, demanding my presence. I’d learned long ago the consequences of ignoring her the hard way. I force my feet to move, not even bothering to slip on shoes. It was Saturnalia, after all. All politics had been postponed until the New Year.

I’m so lost in my own thoughts that I nearly slam my wings into the doorway as I leave my room, only remembering at the last moment to glamour them. Why Stella was summoning me downstairs instead of over to the House of Wind was a mystery to me. Usually, when she nagged me, it was for a sparring session over at the House. 

Cinnamon and citrus invades my senses, and I find myself running.

Is she really here?

I turn the corner and find my eyes met with blazing red hair and tan skin, amber eyes taking in the details of my home. It’s surreal, seeing her here. Something that I thought would never happen in reality is right before my eyes, presented to me. 

Her eyes flicker over to me and all tension from her drops away, a nervous smile adorning her lips. My feet carry me in front of her as I reach out to touch her. I stop halfway through the movement. 

Am I dreaming? Am I so lost without her that my mind conjures her into existence?

Yes. The answer has to be yes. She can’t be here. 

As I retract my hand, her own shoots out, gentle fingers curling themselves around my own roughened ones. “I’m real,” Calida whispers. “I’m here.” 

Her other arm wraps over my shoulders, gently pulling me down to meet her height. “I… how…” I can’t even form the question. She simply shakes her head. 

“Happy Saturnalia, Fi.”

* * *

 

The wonder has yet to fade away. My mate is here. In my home. Her father isn’t here. Her fiance isn’t here. It’s just us. 

We stand on the balcony of my room, wrapped in each other. Cali has yet to see a true night here, and I will be damned if I let her leave before she can. 

Compared to any of the others I’ve seen her in, the dress she wears is plain. Her lips are plain, hair let loose without the constraints of pins. This dressed down version of my mate is completely mesmerizing and utterly mine. 

“I would give anything to stay.”

My grip on her waist tightens the slightest bit, lips pressed against the patch of skin between her neck and shoulder. We hadn’t discussed the fact that she would have to leave, sent back to the Autumn Court before her absence was noticed. We were lucky that it hadn’t already happened. Her handmaiden already knew and had helped with her disappearance, but there was only so much she could do. Soon, she’d have to go back. 

“When?”

“Before sunrise. Father and I are supposed to have breakfast, and if I don’t appear he will know.” She answers, that complacency of hers that’s always bewildered me reappearing. 

The words slip out before I even think to stop them, “You could stay. Truly. If you’d like.”

We had yet to talk about the elephant in the room, usually taking the limited time we had together to simply  _ be _ together. There had never been the time or need for words, and I had never wanted to impose that on her. Ever.

Cali turns to face me, my arms falling away. “I… I suppose I could. But I could never do that to my father. Without his consent, maybe, but not without his knowledge.”

I nod in false understanding. Her complacency, her willingness to let things continue as they were always made me wonder. Would we always be like this? Meeting in secret, behind closed doors? When her wedding day came, would she allow herself to say yes? When it came to the smaller things, she always argued her point—relentlessly, until her adversary saw reason or simply conceded. I loved that part of her. I loved all of her, whether I understood or not. 

A deep sigh slips from her and she leans into my chest, wrapping her arms around my waist. My own come up and curl around her shoulders as I rest my chin atop of her head. In this moment, she seems so small—almost meek. I release the glamour I’ve been subconsciously keeping on my wings and wrap them around her, blocking out the remnants of the sunlight that still peek over the horizon. Soon, it would be nighttime. Then she’d be gone. 

Had it been so wrong to ask her to stay?

I don’t realize that she’s moved until a set of warm fingertips gently brush down the membrane of my left wing. I nearly pull them away out of pure instinct, before remembering that it’s just Cali. I’ve heard the stories of my father’s destroyed wings so many times they’ve been ingrained in me. 

Still, they flinch away. I lean down to whisper in her ear, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The hand on my back brushes against the cartilage that connects my right wing to my back. I sigh, dropping my head so that it rests on her shoulder. “Vixen.” 

I don’t have to look at her to see the smile that spreads across her face. “I’ve never seen them up close. They’re so… intricate.” She traces a finger down one of the veins delicately. I shudder so hard that she stops. 

Gently, reverently, I take her hands off my wings and flick the appendages back—out of her reach. I lift my head to look at her.  “Don’t start something if you don’t intend on finishing it, love.” 

A little laugh as she threads her fingers through my hair, tugging me down. Lips meet mine and I relax through the kiss, relishing in the feel of her in my arms. Just the two of us. “Big Illyrian baby,” she croons. 

I nudge her jaw and she lifts her head, exposing bits of skin. As I pepper kisses across her neck a content little sigh sounds from her, making me smile. “ _ Your _ big Illyrian baby.” 

“One day, you’re going to take me flying.” 

I freeze in my ministrations. At first I’m elated, before the wording of her demand sets in. As if that day is far-off, out of reach. “Why not tonight?” 

“Really?”

The disbelief in her voice makes me pause—it’s not mocking, but rather genuine. Was she not used to having her wants answered? It would align with my own opinion of the Autumn Court, though not hers. She loved her home, her family. I could do without ever seeing them again. 

“Would you rather wait?” I ask, worried if I had pushed perhaps a little too much.

Her answer is quick, “No. But I didn’t want to push the question on you. I thought perhaps you’d rather we just… relax for tonight. Which I wouldn’t be opposed to.”

I simply stare at her for a few moments, drinking her in as Cali stares back unrelentingly. In a few moments she’s gone from teasing to timid, the way she bites into her lower lip telling. Immediately, I wish it was  _ my _ teeth instead. I chase that thought away as quickly as possible. 

My mate wants to go flying, something I’d thought I’d have to one day convince her to do. Uncle Rhys liked to tell the story of the first time he’d taken my mother flying—back when Mom and Dad were both too stubborn to do anything more than dance circles around each other infuriatingly, as I was told. 

“Let’s wait until nightfall. The best way to see the Night Court is in the skies.” 

The smile that lights up her face makes it all worth it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	3. Calida's Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fionn turns to face me, “By the Cauldron, The great Calida Vanserra has called me ‘tolerable.’ Is there a reward? I hope it’s chocolate. We don’t keep any in the house anymore and I’ve found myself craving sweets.”
> 
> -
> 
> Calida finds something she wasn't looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) oh my god, how does one write a scene where a mate bond successfully snaps into place with little consequence in the moment?????? who knows  
> 2) i wrote a 'the greatest showman' au for throne of glass!!!!!! knowledge of the movie isn't needed, and there's no spoilers. i'd love if you all went and read it  
> 3) please enjoy!!!

An engagement party.

Father had me planning it with the servants, learning the ins-and-outs of the new duties that would befall me once I was married. They weren’t difficult and they certainly kept me busy, leaving little time for me to contemplate that this would be the rest of my existence—picking table linens and choosing color schemes. 

But now, for the first time, it was quiet. My handmaidens had left me alone now that I was dressed, the sparkling red fabric of the gown adorning my figure catching the last rays of sun that still filtered through the covered window. 

Even with the eye-catching silk, the dress was hardly risque. The neckline was high and the sleeves long, skirt flaring at the waist. Not ugly in the slightest, but not something I would’ve picked myself. But it didn’t matter. I would only wear the dress for one night before it’d be relegated to the archive of dresses the Vanserra family had worn over the years.

Although, soon, I wouldn’t be a Vanserra anymore. 

The door to my bedchambers opens behind me, and I see my father in the reflection of the mirror in front of me. “Calida, we must go.” 

I curl my fingers a few times as if playing scales on my beloved piano, before turning towards Father. His face is neutral, as always, though the glimmer of pride underneath is barely visible, even to me. 

Hooking my arm through his, we begin to walk towards the ballroom. I’m not mad anymore. I’d met Dalach, my fiance, and he was a good man. I would lead a comfortable life, perhaps not fulfilling, but comfortable would be enough. 

“I know you’re unhappy with me.”

In the quiet of the entrance hall, Father’s voice echoes. It nearly startles me. “And what if I was?”

“I only want the best for you,  _ ascuas _ . That’s all.”

My tensed shoulders fall with the old childhood nickname, one I hadn’t heard since Mother had died. Even if his actions are astray, I know that he only means the best. I could stand aside and do this, if only for his sake. Mother’s death all those years ago had taken a toll on him, and I knew that defiance would only stress him. He didn’t need that.

I hear my name announced as the doors to the ballroom open. Denizens of every court are here, usually nobility. It was uncommon for High Lords and Ladies themselves to appear, though to not send an emissary or some sort was poor taste. I could even pick out the signature black of a few Night Court faeries—Velaris, not the Hewn City. They hadn’t been invited. 

Dalach is off to my left holding out a hand for me to take. Formal and practiced—utterly staged. I square my shoulders once again and take his hand, letting him escort me down the opulent stairs. My eyes sweep over the crowd rather than focus on him, picking out familiar faces—Do my eyes deceive me or is that Fionn Archeron and Stella Archeron? Strange, to send both of them. We had expected Nesta, as she was Emissary, though I’m sure Father would welcome the switch. The Night Court Emissary had always scared him for reasons unbeknownst to me. I found it amusing after having met her myself. Intimidating, perhaps, but not cold. 

The music starts as we reach the bottom of the stairs, the lilting sounds of music I’d composed under an alias coming from the musicians who play in the balcony above—out of sight. Father hadn’t wanted them taking attention away from the engagement, as he put it. I would’ve gladly placed them in the front, where their talents could be seen. I’d picked them all out myself.

My mind wanders as my feet move along to the dance, steps long ago memorized. Dalach, blessedly, doesn’t even attempt conversation, seeming to understand that my mind was far away from the present. Even if I had technically planned most of the party, it still felt impersonal—like it had been designed for someone else, and I had just so happened to stumble into it. The red table linens are hardly unique, and the guest list had simply been generic letters sent to Autumn nobility and a few of the other courts. 

“May I cut in?”

I glance up and meet the whirring eye of Lucien. My uncle by blood, though more like a second father. Father and he had never truly made up, but some sort of ceasefire had been called between the two of them. I wasn’t sure what had caused it, only that it’d allowed me a connection to the world outside the family estate. 

In a moment, I’m dancing with Lucien instead, which is far more familiar than dancing with my fiance. He used to dance with me at the Assembly when I was a little girl; when I’d stand on his toes and he’d spin us around. Those were some fonder memories. 

“Are you alright?” He asks, barely audible over the string quartet. 

“That’s a very open-ended question,” I retort. 

“Do you want to be here?”

I nearly stop dancing with the question, not knowing quite how to answer. No. I didn’t want to be here. But I would be. Because it was expected of me, and I had no true reason to defy those expectations besides my own personal wants, and those would fade with time. 

“I suppose not,” is what I settle on. My eyes fall away to where I spot Fionn stepping out of the ballroom onto one of the many balconies—alone. My curiosity spikes, even after spending so many years trying to stifle it. “I’m sorry, would you excuse me?”

Lucien’s eyes follow my line of sight, a small smile appearing on his face—like he knows something I don’t. “Do as you please.” 

I dodge other dancing couples and males offering to dance with a plastered smile, the same one I wear for all of these events. I truly wanted to be in my room, composing music or perhaps trying to perfect a song on my violin—away from others, with no company but myself. 

Fionn’s head turns as I open the door to the balcony, closing it behind me and disregarding the questioning looks from other Autumn nobility. Their opinions were rather inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. 

“It’s the lady of the hour,” he drawls. He fully turns and leans his back on the balcony, as though shielding it from some invisible threat. I wouldn’t be surprised. He was the son of the most powerful General in the history of Prythian, after all. He was likely born with a sword in his hand and a pair of wings on his back—though I’d never seen the latter. 

“Are the hor d'oeuvres not good enough for you? You’d rather spend your time sulking on a balcony?” I quip, though there’s no animosity. After his generosity during that day in the Day Court, I didn’t have it in me anymore. He wasn’t crude and sharp, as many believed. Quite the opposite, really. It was refreshing. 

He simply laughs, the words rolling off his back, “How are you? Enjoying your engagement?”

I shrug, once again unsure how to answer. “I wouldn’t say that I’m enjoying it, but it’s… easy. Comfortable.”

“I never pegged you as one to be complacent, given you always seem to want to bite my head off. Though I will say that you’re being awfully nice tonight.” 

Moving to stand next to him, I lean my arms on the railing, the sleeves of my dress straining. Perhaps it was a bad idea to cross my arms in such a dress like this. “I thought we’d moved past the insults. You’ve proven yourself to be… tolerable.” 

Fionn turns to face me, “By the Cauldron, The great Calida Vanserra has called me ‘tolerable.’ Is there a reward? I hope it’s chocolate. We don’t keep any in the house anymore and I’ve found myself craving sweets.”

A loud laugh slips from my throat, disturbing the sleeping birds in the maple trees. “Forget what I said. You’re insufferable.”

A grin of his own lines his features, “I  _ do _ have a reputation to maintain.” 

“If you truly wish, we do have a  _ pastelero _ who specializes in chocolates. I could send for some. He makes these beautiful dark chocolate truffles with a caramel filling that are simply devourable. Oh, and then there are the milk chocolate ones with a white chocolate ganache that he only makes for—”

I stop in my rambling, finally noticing the look on his face; eyes wide and full of wonder as if he can’t believe that he’s standing here in front of me. Truthfully, I can’t either. I hadn’t expected to see him until the Assembly. It’s nice to have an ally, even if he’s so far away that I’m only guaranteed to see him once a year. 

“Fionn?”

He blinks twice, snapped back into reality. He raises a hand and pinches his nose bridge, blue-grey eyes closing. “I’m sorry. I’m listening. Promise.” Even after he lowers his hand from his face, he doesn’t look at me. His other hand is clenched in a fist around the balcony railing. 

I furrow my brow, “Are you alright?”

“Of course,” he deflects smoothly, “I’m on a beautiful balcony with a gorgeous woman underneath the stars.” The flirtiness reappears, that one moment of vulnerability disappearing as quickly as one winnows. There for a moment, gone the next. Typical, of course. I shouldn’t have expected any less.

Some part of me wants to pry— _ begs _ me to pry. To call him out on his lie and demand an answer. I don’t know why. I have no place doing such a thing, to act as if we are equals. Sure, I may be the daughter of a High Lord, but he was the son of Nesta and Cassian—the Made who’d taken from the Cauldron and the male who’d torn down entire armies single-handedly. He would always be above me in rank, in the amount of respect he received through bloodline alone. 

“While the flattery is appreciated, it gets you nowhere.” I chastise, the smile on my face genuine now. 

But Fionn’s eyes are trained on the night sky, taking in the stars. I’m sure it’s rather mundane compared the court he hails from, and I’m baffled as to why he even bothers to look at it. “You should see the night sky back home. Everything pales in comparison.” 

“Really?”

He looks at me again, “Really. It’s as though every star, every swath of black was crafted by the Cauldron itself. There’s no need for lanterns after dark; the moon lights everything. Not like daylight, but for a city that wakes in the night and sleeps through the day. It’s astonishing.” 

“I’d love to see a night in the Night Court.” 

“I’d love for you to  _ see _ the Night Court.” 

_ Snap _ .

The sound cracks loudly in my ears, a strangled gasp escaping me as I grip the railing for stability while my legs give out beneath me. A hand is set on my waist, undoubtedly to steady me, but it does the opposite. 

I whip my head to look at Fionn, setting my own hand on top of where his rests on my waist. “Oh.  _ Oh _ .” 

“Cali? Is… is everything alright?” I don’t even have it in me to chastise him over the nickname There’s a new layer of timidness to his tone—a  _ fear _ that baffles me. Had he already known? If he did, why hadn’t he told me? 

“You tell me.”

The bond is a second heartbeat in my chest—a string that leads somewhere else. It is as terrifying as it is wondrous to have that sort of connection to another. I know where that string leads, and it’s to the male that stands in front of me.

Terrifying. Wondrous. Overwhelming. Intoxicating. 

He shifts the hand on my waist so that it’s holding my own, gently tugging me closer to him. I oblige. My skin  _ craves _ the feeling of his. His eyes are averted away from mine. 

“I didn’t tell you because… because there was never a good time. And I didn’t want to impose it on you.” The hand not in mine clenches, “And I thought that, perhaps, you wouldn’t want me anyway.” 

Suddenly, it’s hard to breathe

“So I figured it’d be better if I just… stood to the side and let you live your life. Sure, you didn’t seem all that happy, but how did I know if you would be happier with me? At the very least, you were comfortable. Content. And even if that complacency drives me absolutely insane, it’s yo—” I raise myself on my toes, and even in these heels, he’s taller than me. 

So I thread my fingers through his hair and pull him down to my height, shutting him up with a kiss. 

Almost instantaneously, he relaxes, hands coming to my waist and pulling me closer. It’s as though everything has righted itself. I loop my arms around his neck and get as close as I can, reveling in the sureness that now flows through me. This is where I’m supposed to be. This is where I belong.

Except it’s not. 

I back away a few steps, intertwining my hands with Fionn’s if only to keep them from trembling. There are some rather apparent remnants of red lipstick on him, and with the glass door leading into the ballroom,  _ anyone _ could’ve seen our little display. I would be disgraced, rejected by my fiance and an embarrassment to Father. 

Though, as I stare into the eyes of my mate, I think that perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	4. Blame it on the Alcohol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Didn’t she spend literally all of Saturnalia here? Like a week ago?” I don’t answer. “Fi, get your motherfuckin’—” hiccup “—shit together. Write a letter or something. Our dearest aunt could blast through those wards with a bat of her eyelashes. Fuck, she could probably do it with an ash arrow or two in her.”
> 
> -
> 
> Fionn blames Alesta

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) ahhhhh!!! this chapter make me really, really happy!!!!  
> 2) this universe needed some more characters, so here they are  
> 3) alesta may be favorite. just saying.  
> 4) there's some swearing in here. most rational people would probably consider it excessive. sorry?  
> 4) please enjoy!!!!

If anyone asks me, this was all Alesta’s fault.

Sure, it wasn’t as if the alcohol cabinet had ever been explicitly off-limits, but I could see the disappointment on Mom’s face with shocking clarity, and imagine the lecture we’d get in the morning—undoubtedly with a raging hangover and Dad snickering in the background.  

But it would be worth it. It was incredibly, incredibly rare that Aly came home from the camps, and we usually spent our limited time together drinking and indulging ourselves. Or, if we weren’t feeling like death, we sparred. Each time it grew more difficult to beat her. She never failed to amaze me. 

Khalon had taken up “temporary” residence in the Dawn Court with his lover, Adrian, about half a decade ago. I saw him about as often as I went to that court; never. We sent letters back and forth often enough, but it still maintained that I hadn’t seen him in nearly two years since he’d stopped coming home for the Winter Solstice, instead choosing to stay in Dawn and celebrate there. No one truly minded—really, his place was with the inventors there.  

So I had been relegated to the last child still living in the house—the oldest, at that. Unconventional, sure, but it wasn’t as if Mom and Dad had ever threatened to throw me out. In fact, I was almost sure that Mom would cry the day I tried to leave. Not that she’d ever admit it, but she was a softie. Dad claimed that motherhood softened her up—Uncle Rhys claimed that she was still terrifying.

“We—”  _ hiccup _ “—are gonna be in  _ so much shit _ .” Aly proclaims, her words staggered and near indecipherable. Only in my own drunk state could I have ever understood her.

A booming laugh escapes me as I throw my head back,  the full glass of whiskey in my hand sloshing to spill over onto my hand. Not that I cared. At this point, I wasn’t even sure I was going to remember this conversation come morning. 

We were sprawled out haphazardly on the couch together, the bottle of whiskey that had, embarrassingly, been full when we’d sat down sitting on the coffee table. Initially, it had been for a serious talk in which I asked her for advice on the whole mate debacle I’d found myself in, but Aly had always had a habit of ridding me of my inhibitions. Even with her pointed ears, she’d always seemed more Illyrian than High Fae. To be fair, she was Dad’s favorite. 

“Oh! I found a girl.”

A groan of false exasperation escaped me, “Why am I the only straight one in this family?”

Aly slapped me on the back of the head, as I had anticipated. “Shut up. That’s not the point, asshole. Focus.” She snapped her fingers in front of my face, my attempts at swatting them away rather unsuccessful.

“By the Cauldron, you know I don’t mean it. You were saying? A girl?”

A dreamy sigh slipped from my sister’s lips, and that’s when I knew it was bad. “She’s pretty and smart and doesn’t think I’m a barbarian for wanting to learn how to fight  _ and _ she’s not exclusively into dick this time.” 

“Rewind.  _ This _ time?”

She squints at me, “I never told you about Veya? Whatever. Not the point.” Aly breezes past the question like she always does in that infuriating way of hers. “I’m trying to get her to come to Velaris for a weekend, or even out to the fucking cabin, but she’s used to the damn constructs of our stupid culture. Complacent. Doesn’t want to leave her little shell of comfort.” 

Instantly, I deflate. “Don’t even bring up complacency, my dearest sister, until you’ve met my mate. Who is engaged. Still.” 

Aly raised her eyebrow to an absurd height, “Still? Are you serious?”

“Yes! It’s been, like, four months. I don’t understand.” 

“Have you tried, oh, I don’t know,  _ talking to her? _ ”

I feel my cheeks redden, and not because of the alcohol. “Well, uh, there’s never been a good opportunity, you know, with how little we get to see each other—”

“Didn’t she spend literally all of Saturnalia here? Like a week ago?” I don’t answer. “Fi, get your motherfuckin’—”  _ hiccup _  “—shit together. Write a letter or something. Our dearest aunt could blast through those wards with a bat of her eyelashes. Fuck, she could probably do it with an ash arrow or two in her.”

“Don’t joke about that shit, sis. And since when did I permit you to give me love advice?” I lean over and pinch her arm, which had been left bare after she’d ditched the top layer of Illyrian leathers, leaving her in an undershirt. Like Dad, she lived in leathers. 

“Uh, I believe your exact words when we started drinking were ‘I need love advice,’ dimwit, and as the only other person in this family that’s your age and into girls, I’m the most qualified. Dad and Uncle Rhys will make a joke out of it, and Uncle Az has been dancing circles around Aunt Elain for so fucking long that I’d hardly go to him for advice.” 

“Face it,” Aly threw back what was left in her glass, “I’m your best option.” Her nose wrinkled adorably—reminiscent of what she used to do when she’d been told “no” as a horrible, intolerable toddler. “Mother, that’s an awful thought.”

Her wings, which she rarely glamoured, nearly hit me in the face as she leans over to refill her glass. Or, I assumed so, until she simply set the glass down and chugged from the bottle instead. I don’t blame her in the slightest.

“Fionn? Alesta? What are you doing?”

I glance over to the front door, confronted by the disapproving face of Mom. Dad stands behind her, looking like he wishes he could immediately go back out the door again. It seemed that the lecture from Mom I’d foretold would happen now, instead of morning. 

“I’m giving Fi love advice, Mom. We all know he needs it.” Aly laughs, taking another swig from the bottle that’s dangerously close to empty. At least it wasn’t Dad’s expensive stuff—we didn’t need to find a reason for him to be mad at us too.

“Shut your face,” I command, uselessly swatting at her. She only laughs louder.

I almost miss Mom turn back around to look at Dad, “Can we turn them into toddlers again? Please? They used to be so cute.” He simply chuckles and wraps an arm around her waist, tucking her into his side and dropping a kiss on her temple.

A pang of want runs through me.  _ Calida _ .

Was it so much to ask for? For my mate to be beside me—permanently? 

I tug on that bond within me, though it may or may not have been more of a yank in my current state of drunkenness. Subtlety and precision were lost to me. A comforting, if not amused, tug comes back, and I find myself relaxing. 

Even if she wasn’t beside me, she was always within reach. 

* * *

“Get up, you lazy ass! The best cure for a hangover is a nice sparring session.”

“Stel, if you don’t get out of my room in ten seconds, I will not hesitate to tell your dad about the time you ditched your High Lady lessons to go see a show on the Rainbow.”

My favorite cousin scoffs, “Please, he already knows about that. Besides, I’m not the one who drank an entire bottle of whiskey with Aly last night. Which was incredibly stupid, by the way, considering that we had arrangements to sneak you into the Autumn Court today. I’ve been talking with your mate until diplomatic pretenses, and this has been in the works since long before Saturnalia, but, you know, if you’re too hu—”

My head pops up at her words, even if the motion makes my head spin. “Sneak me into  _ where _ ?”

Stella grins in that coy, devilish way of hers. “I think you heard me.” She clears her throat, “But! None of that is happening if you don’t get your ass out of bed and into the ring with me. Let’s go a few rounds.” 

Begrudgingly, I start going through the motions of getting out of bed. Every muscles aches and a raging headache encapsulates my skull, though it’s nothing that the right cup of herbal tea won’t fix. I’m sure Nuala already has the water boiling and herbs ready in anticipation. “Would you at least get out while I get dressed?”

“Just meet me at the House. If you’re not there in fifteen minutes, I’ll come back over. With a bucket of ice water.” With that cherry farewell, she simply winnows away, one of the sole exceptions to the wards against winnowing into the House. 

I shove on a pair of Illyrian leathers and brush my teeth, trying to get rid of the disgusting aftertaste of whiskey in my mouth. It had never been one of my favorite alcohols, but it had been the closest one and that had been enough last night. 

It’s an effort to jump over the railing of the balcony in my room, enjoying the whistling wind in my ears for as long as I can before having to snap out my wings to prevent myself from becoming a puddle on the side of a mountain. 

The air is clearer in the sky—it’s sharper, clearer and helps to cuts through the cloud that’s a direct result of the alcohol from the night before. I do a few circles over the city, waving at a few of the denizens that wave up at me before finally making my way towards the House. Screw Stella. She’d live if I was a few minutes late. 

My feet have barely touched the ground before she launches a sword at me, apparently in no mood to talk. I have no doubt that I’ll get my ass handed to me this morning—or afternoon, based on the position of the sun—but I need the distraction. 

“We’re sneaking me into Autumn?” I ask, barely blocking a parry. 

“Yup. It won’t be hard with Mom to break the wards, but we figured that we’d plan carefully for the first go at it. We have precautions in place in case there are any… contingencies. We don’t expect any.” She quickly tacks onto the end, her footwork as weightless and graceful as ever.

I don’t respond, as Stella chooses that exact moment to speed up. All my focus goes into  _ not _ getting pummeled into the ground. My footwork is sloppy, muscles turned to sludge with the after-effects of drinking. In retrospect, my fruitless attempt to drink away my stress had been stupid. I still blamed Aly. There was nothing she didn’t think she couldn’t solve with a bottle of cheap alcohol. And, usually, she wasn’t all that wrong. 

_ ANSWER ME CA— _

I nearly get my head sliced off as the sudden voice invades my head, stumbling backward and getting dangerously close to falling off the mountain.

“You’re not  _ that _ hungover, Fi.”

_ HAVE YOU BEEN FU— _

Little snippets of a conversation that’s not happening flood me. In my warped vision, I can see Stella’s brow furrow with confusion.

“Hey—are you okay?”

_ CALIDA VA—  _

I nearly choke on my own breath, terror both my own and not running through me. The bond. It was the bond. Neither of us were daemati—was it possible that her feelings, her  _ fear _ , were so strong that they transcended the limits of our bond?

I didn’t want to answer my own question. 

“Cali—” I double over, dry heaving onto the ground. “—Calida. It’s Calida.”

“That’s  _ insane _ , Fionn. Neither of you are—”

I stare up at her for a moment—at the fear in her eyes. Since when had she become such good friends with my mate?

“Look in my—my head, Stel. Do it.” 

_ I HAVE GIVEN YOU EV— _

I barely comprehend Stella’s eyes widening, or even the retreat of her presence in my head. Her eyes glaze over for a moment, and I understand what’s happening the moment Uncle Rhys appears only feet away. 

“Estella, what’s wro—”

“Look into his mind, Dad.”

His eyes finally shift to me, Stella’s arms moving to catch me as my feet give way beneath me. The  _ terror _ and the  _ guilt _ and the— 

_ —WITH THE NIGHT BOY _

“Rhys? What in Mother’s name is happening out here?” Through the haze that has become my vision, I think I can make out the silhouette of my High Lady. 

“Looks like it’s time to go save our nephew’s mate, Feyre darling.”

“As much as I’d enjoy the opportunity for an encore with Eris, we can’t. You know how this works.” 

Uncle Rhys’ lips thin, displeasure crossing his face. His eyes fall on me and Stella. “It has to be one of you two. Feyre can break the wards, but if either of us set foot on Autumn land or take out any of his guards, it will be a declaration of war.”

Stella seems to stop with the command. “One of—one of us? Isn’t anyone else home? Aunt Mor or—”  

He shakes his head, “No. They’re all off on Court business.” 

I shove down the feelings coming through the bond, trying to find some sense of clarity once again. I needed a level-head for this. There was no other choice. The timing could never have been worse, but what needed to be done needed to be done. 

“It needs to be you, Stel.” 

_ YOU ARE A DISG— _

The composure I’d collected falls at my feet, a small, wounded sound escaping me as I grab my head. I couldn’t throw up a shield if I wanted to. I push back comfort and patience—anything I can. My own uselessness batters at me, leaving a distinct feeling of unworthiness in my chest. I can’t save my mate when she needs me most—what kind of male was I? 

“Okay. I… I’ll do it. Let’s go, Mom.”  __

I only know they’re gone from the wind of Aunt Feyre’s winnow, which blows a stray curl of my hair across my face. Uncle Rhys grabs my arm and loops it over my shoulder, beginning to drag me inside.

“How’d you do it? Deal with the terror?”

His eyes swivel over to me, “Well, firstly, I’m five hundred years older than you. Secondly, I’m a daemati. I may have looked like I was put together when we saved Feyre that second time, but I felt  _ exactly _ like how you look.”

I get unceremoniously dropped on the couch, not that I mind. “You’ve always been the most complimentary one, Uncle. Thanks for the fla—”

_ —CLARATION OF WA— _

“Here, drink this.” 

I get handed a cup of tea, warm but not hot. The terror has substantially subsided, replaced with gratitude and relief. It would seem that Stella had arrived on the scene, then. Thank the Mother. I drink the entire cup in a matter of moments, not even bothering to ask what’s in it.

“Girls’ll be back in a few moments. Stella’s disappointed that the guards didn’t put up more of a fight. Eris couldn’t do anything without making a  _ true _ declaration of war. Even he’s not that stupid.”

“Debatable,” I grumble, leaning back on the couch and kicking my feet up. It had been a long time since I’d actually been inside the House, usually, I was only over here for a good sparring session and, occasionally, a family dinner. Although, after Aly and Stella had almost blown up the last one, I was trying to avoid them. 

My mind has quieted at least, enough that my vision clears and my hands stop trembling. I push through as much comfort as I can, having it met with relief and affection. I had always craved to take her out of that court, though the circumstances could’ve been better. Still, I’d have my mate.

Cinnamon and citrus flood my senses a few moments later, and I know she’s right outside the door. Thankfully, Uncle Rhys doesn’t have anything witty to say as I set down the cup of tea and walk over to the door, yanking it open. 

Blazing red hair. Tear tracks covering freckles. The most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen on her face. 

I take her hand in mine and pull her with me out the door and to the edge of the rock. “Would you like to get away for a bit? Just the two of us?” I ask, winding my arms around her waist. We gravitate a little closer to each other. 

Cali loosely loops her own over my shoulders, “I’d go anywhere with you.” 

“Winnow with a short flight or long flight?” I ask, tipping my head to pepper short kisses on her jawline. Utterly captivating, my mate. 

A soft hum, “Short flight this time. Long flight back.”

I turn towards the House for a few moments. “We’re going to the cabin! Indefinitely!” I look back at my mate, whose eyes sparkle with a sort of wonder that I hope never fades. It takes me a moment to rally my magic, having not winnowed in a while. “Ready, love?”

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	5. The Cabin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even as that warmth and comfort I wanted washes over me, that feeling lingers in my chest. I still don’t know what it is—not loneliness, and not quite sadness.
> 
> -
> 
> Calida crashes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) this chapter is almost nsfw?? it's more of a fade-to-black so nothing explicit, but i can only write fluff for so long and i'm not quite ready to throw angst at my children  
> 2) i wrote this when i was feeling the exact same was as calida and wishing for someone to just lie with me. it's kinda sad and i'm sorry  
> 3) two options for next chapter: calida's first family dinner at the night court or calida's first starfall?  
> 4) please enjoy!!!

It’s perfect.

The cabin’s covered in paintings across all the walls and furniture, full of things I do and don’t recognize. Some are little doodles, others more purposeful. It doesn’t take a prodigy to figure out that most of them had been done by Feyre Cursebreaker herself—when I’d asked, Fionn had told me the story of how many of them had gotten there in the first place. 

For once, everything’s comfortable. I had thought that I knew comfort back at home, but I didn’t realize what it truly was until I’d gotten here. WIth my mate. We’d carved ourselves a little haven where we wouldn’t be disturbed. Sometimes we just… talked, making up for the time that had been lost. Other times we simply sat together in silence, bathing in the pure physical presence of the other. It was easy. It was nice. 

But my body had crashed this morning; all the stress from the past two weeks or so had finally broken me, and getting out of bed didn’t seem plausible at the moment. Sunlight reflected off the snow, which was still new to me, but it made the entire room too bright through the open curtains. I just wanted to lie in bed all day, cocooned into the combined warmth of the blankets, the fireplace, and Fionn with a comforting darkness.

At this point, we’d already spent far too many days in the cabin. Even though Fionn insisted that we were fine and that there was no rush, I could tell that he was beginning to go stir crazy; itching for a change in the routine we’d established.

I would’ve been content to spend the rest of my life in this place, spending day after day simply reading or playing the violin. He wasn’t like that. He was always in motion, craving a new adventure and a different thrill. I could never hold him back, even if I wanted to. And I didn’t.

Last night, I’d decided that I’d tell them we could leave in the morning. But morning has arrived and everything’s come crashing down on me. I simply want to lie in bed and cuddle and maybe cry. I don’t know what has changed, except that even sitting up seems like a worthless action. Like all the ones I’ve made in the last four months.

I’d been able to block out those last few minutes in the all-encompassing presence of my mate, but it seemed that they had persisted in his absence. Like usual, he’s gotten up before me, and the smell of breakfast has already wafted through the entire cabin. 

The sure cadence of his footsteps sounds throughout the entire cabin, coming closer. I haven’t even looked out the window to check the position of the sun yet, though I’m sure that it’s far later than I usually get up. 

I don’t even turn at the sound of the door creaking open, instead tucking my head even further into the soft pillow. It feels almost shameful to wish for solitude after all this time craving Fionn’s company. Resignation bubbles in my chest, a distinct feeling of wanting him to turn around and leave becoming apparent. 

“Cali? Are you alright?”

The usual melody of his tone morphs into a grating screech, interrupting the tranquility I’ve wrapped myself in. I don’t want to send him away, nor do I want him to stay. I lower my walls blocking off the bond, trying to project the turmoil of my own thoughts—the incessant need for solitude, the want for silence and yet the craving for his company and the acknowledgment of how utterly unfair it was to him. Words have been utterly lost to me in this moment. I can’t even summon the energy to attempt to open my mouth and speak. 

I shut my eyes as he walks around the bed, this time the sound of his steps muffled by the carpet. The sound of the curtains being pulled makes me wince, but the room dims and the strain on my eyes lessens. The bed dips as Fionn climbs in. I crack my eye open the slightest bit, noting that his wings are out. He wraps his arm and a wing around me, pulling me in close. 

I hear the fireplace start behind me, the sound of crackling embers a familiar and soothing sound. Even as that warmth and comfort I wanted washes over me, that feeling lingers in my chest. I still don’t know what it is—not loneliness, and not quite sadness. Perhaps resignation or… or defeat. Or a mix of the two. I sigh and settle myself in his arms, the scent of steel and fresh cotton filtering through my senses.

“Thank you,” I mutter, the only words I can muster. 

There’s no response besides a kiss on my forehead. 

* * *

We end up spending the rest of the day in bed, wrapped in each other’s arms and presence—walls had been completely lowered hours ago. Not once had Fionn complained or expressed any form of impatience.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” is his immediate response, voice gravelly from lack of use. 

“I wanted to leave today, but I woke up and I just…” I don’t have the words to describe the feeling that had settled within me—that was still there, distantly in the background but still impossibly close. 

“It happens a lot among my aunts and uncles.” I blink twice, surprised at the admission. “From the war. Sometimes, I won’t see Aunt Feyre for a week, or Mom will lock herself in her room for a day. They’re strong people, but even they break.”  He settles above me, holding himself up slightly with his forearms as he brushes his nose with mine. “We all deserve the right to break sometimes, love. No one should be faulted for that.” 

Tears well in my eyes, the understanding that flows unwaveringly from him across the bond breaking down whatever fog has been in my mind all day—all  _ week _ . The facade of calmness I’ve maintained comes crashing down, my throat clogging as I try to get words out.

“I don’t know how he found out.”

Fionn tenses, those magnificent wings falling over the both of us. What little remains of the sunlight is filtered through the dark membrane, a soft backlighting to the red and gold veins.

“Father, he-he called me to his study. Said he wanted to discuss the engagement. Even a week later, I was still riding the high of Saturnalia. I was ready to tell him, you know? I was ready to tell him that I love _you_ and that I only ever wanted to marry _you_.” My voice cracks with the admission, along with whatever piece of my heart had been holding onto the illusions of my childhood. 

“But I walked in and he started screaming. Just… screaming and screaming and screaming. He told me that he’d given me everything and that I would not throw it away for some Night boy. He didn’t care whether I loved you or not. He just went on and on, spewing some twisted warning about the things they did to the girls in the war camps and asking if I wanted to end up like them.”

I sense that he wants to interrupt me—wants to refute my last sentence, but I barrel on. “And then Stella walked in, looking as impeccable as she always does and extended a hand towards me. She stated that she was there to get me out and…. And Mother above, I’ve never seen him so livid. I thought he was going to attack her—attack  _ me _ . But he just watched as I took her hand and we left.

“And I’ve realized that I’ve been holding onto the last remnants of my childhood for so long that… that I’ve allowed myself to grow compliant. I’ve wanted to go back for so long that I completely bent to Father’s will and I am so, so sorry because it was utterly unfair of me to do that to you.”

Fionn’s silent for a few moments, fingers gently brushing away the tears that fall from my eyes, lips hovering above my own. I can almost see the way he sorts his thoughts, cherry-picking words and phrases with care. 

In the end, he simply leans down and kisses me, lips soft and reverent. I loop my arms around his neck and arch into him, his own hands coming to rest on the small of my back. 

“You deserved better, Cali. You deserve the world and I can only hope to give it to you.” 

I shake my head, “I have you. That’s all I need.” 

I feel the upward curl of his lips, the happiness that radiates from him. It’s utterly infectious as I capture his lips once again, my thumbs find their way to the patch of skin revealed below the hemline of his shirt, traveling underneath the fabric to trace the vee of his hips. The mating bond practically  _ sings _ . “Off.”

“So demanding,” he laughs, those wings disappearing for a few moments as he tugs the shirt over his head, throwing it somewhere off to the side. The moment they reappear I reach for them, running a fingertip along the bottom edge. I haven’t had the opportunity to touch them since Saturnalia, and the leathery feel of the membrane beneath my hands is empowering. 

And perhaps this won’t fix anything, not in the long run, but for now, I want to forget. I want to lose myself in my mate and know nothing else.

A choked gasp sounds and I smile through the kiss, which is no longer sweet nor gentle. Still, it’s perfect. It’s  _ ours _ . He runs his tongue along the seal of my lips at the same moment I lightly drag a manicured nail across the membrane.

“Vixen,” he gasps, flicking his wings out of reach as he trails open-mouthed kisses down my neck. My laugh is interrupted by a moan, now unoccupied hands twisting the sheets as little mewls slip from my lips uninhibited. Mother, he was good at this. It was entirely unfair. 

Hands settle carefully on my thighs, fingertips nudging the edge of the nightgown I wear—a hesitant question, the heady kisses slowing down just enough to drive me crazy. “May I?”

“ _ Please _ .”

I feel the smile—no, the smirk against the skin of my neck as his head dips lower and his hands travel upwards even slower, the rough sensation of calloused hands settling me on fire. Oh, I would happily burn to feel like this. 

“We’re not leaving this place for another  _ week _ . At least.”

Then his mouth meets his hands and I incinerate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	6. Starfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Are you harassing my mate, Auntie?”  
> I turn and find myself met with my mate, who looks utterly delectable in a maroon jacket that matches my dress. Fionn’s eyes meet mine, amusement sparkling as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking. 
> 
> -
> 
> No one will tell Calida what the hell makes Starfall so exciting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) i know i've been updating this about once every two days, but school starts back up again in six hours (whoops i should probably sleep) so updates are likely going to slow as finals approach in about a week or two. my first high school finals, wish me luck  
> 2) this is just cute. the next chapter i have planned is a little angstier and about half-written. it's gonna be good, promise  
> 3) next chapter also has more of the inner circle! this has been pretty next-gen centric so far, but i want to go back to nessian and feysand and hang out with them for a bit. you do get a little feyre here to tide you over until then :)  
> 4) please enjoy!!!

“It’s just Nynsar, Fi. I don’t know what the fuss is about.” 

Fionn gasps, “Just Nynsar? You’re in the Night Court! It’s Starfall!”

He takes my hands in his and pulls me into his chest, beginning to sway to some music only he can hear. It’s very… him. For all the energy I lack, he makes up for it with sheer boisterousness and wit. It’s intoxicating. 

“Thing is, no one will tell me what the big deal is.” I counter, happily swaying along. “Not even Elain, who tells me  _ everything _ .” 

Adjusting to my newly founded life in the Night Court had been far easier than it should’ve been, and guilt had seemingly permanently wormed its way into me. I’d gotten rid of the demure dresses of home in exchange for the slimming, empowering ones of Velaris. Figure-hugging and sparkling, meant to attract attention and keep it rather than showcase whoever my escort for the night was. I’d even allowed myself to perform a few times with the local symphony on the Rainbow, finding myself more comfortable each time I did.

Still, I was obviously unfamiliar with a few things, including the big secret that was Starfall. Nynsar was minimally celebrated back home, and simply waking up to the festivities that were already in swing in the city below was exhausting. People lined the streets and shops were having sales, bodegas giving out little trinkets and entertaining the children who ran amok, even more excited than usual. 

“It’s better off as a surprise,” Fionn shrugs. “Ask Aunt Feyre. She’ll tell you the same.” 

“Well, I am not Feyre Cursebreaker.” I poke his chest, “I am your impatient, curious mate who demands to know what all the fuss is about.” 

“You’re going to love it,” he placates, “promise. Even if I  _ still _ can’t believe you don’t know what Starfall is.” 

I sigh, pulling him down to my height. “I believe you, but… I don’t like being the only one who doesn’t know.”

The kiss is sweet, reverent—the same as the hundreds we’ve had before and yet entirely its own. I weave my fingers through his hair, he pulls me even closer. “Just today. No more after this.” He says, lips brushing against mine as he speaks.

“Mm, whatever you say.” I laugh, knowing that it wasn’t true. Fionn  _ liked _ to surprise me, even if drove me slightly insane. There was a new bouquet on the balcony every week and yet another piece of sheet music. He’d even had the violin he’d given me for Saturnalia that I’d left at home recreated with an exactness I hadn’t thought possible, 

It was almost too much, given how little I have to give him in return. All I had was myself, and I’d already given him all of me. He had never asked for more, and I doubt he ever will, but the sheer imbalance didn’t sit right with me. I wanted to give as much as I was given myself. 

I take a moment to take in our room—the one that had once been his and was now ours, little traces of both of us sprinkled throughout the space. My sheet music in a neat pile on the table, a few of his books stacked haphazardly on the shelf along with my violin case. 

“Thank you for giving me all of this,” I murmur. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been happier.” 

Even as I say the words, some part of me knows it’s false. The bliss that encompasses me now nearly compares with the euphoria that bubbled over in every memory of my childhood—before Mother had died. Is it so wrong to wish for the joy of my childhood while in the arms of my mate? Yes. Perhaps. I don't know anymore. 

They’d done a good job hiding the letters from Father, keeping conversations in hushed whispers when I was out of the room and stopping them altogether once I was present. I could tell Nesta was getting the brunt of it—she was Emissary, after all, and her son was my mate. 

Still, through all of that, they accepted me. They’d brought me into the fold and introduced me to a city I had only seen once before.  I don’t think my gratitude towards Fionn’s family will ever fade. When I thought I’d lost it all, they’d given me something new, something better. 

“That’s my job,” he smiles, pulling me from my thoughts. “Apparently, Stella has a dress for you at the House. I think she’s trying to compensate for all the girl time the both of you have missed.” 

I laugh and step out of his reach, opening the door to the balcony that we spent so much time on. “Will you fly me over?” I ask, turning back to look at him as I do. 

I had found that I enjoyed the flying—the wind in my hair and the feeling of being wrapped in my mate’s arms. It was utterly exhilarating; a high that I never wanted to come down from, a way to rid myself of all my problems for a little bit. 

Fionn grins, “I don’t know. I  _ could _ make you climb the sta—Don’t give me that look, love. Of course, I’ll fly you.” 

I roll my eyes and slip on the shoes I’ve started to keep on the balcony out of pure convenience, waiting for my mate as he ties back his unruly hair—I was the reason it had come undone in the first place. I couldn’t exactly be impatient.

As soon as it’s tied, I want to pull the band of leather out of his hair again. I don’t, of course, but my fingers twitch with the desire. He raises an eyebrow as if he can tell what I’m thinking, though says nothing as he sweeps me up into his arms. At this point, I’m so used to it that I don’t even bat an eyelash, habitually looping my arms loosely around his neck. 

“You really know how to sweep me off my feet, huh?” I ask, grinning all the while.

He rolls his eyes, “I try.”

* * *

I’d lost Stella somewhere in the madness, now left alone to my own devices at the party hosted in the House of Wind.

Not that I mind, really. I know that I’m was completely safe up here, even if I’m alone and surrounded almost completely by strangers. I recognize a few shopkeepers and some of the musicians in the symphony, waving hello and making small talk. 

“Calida?”

I turn at the sound of my name, coming face-to-face with none other than Feyre Cursebreaker herself. It was strange to think that I could nearly consider her family now, given the circumstances that had fallen on me. I’d only been in the Night Court for a month or so and had yet to have a true, proper conversation with her. Not that I minded, really. I’m sure she had far better things to do than talk to me.

“High Lady,” I instinctually greet. Thankfully, I don’t curtsey. That would’ve been strange.

Feyre waves away the title, “I’m just Feyre tonight. And besides, you’re family now.” She says the words as if they are simple—just something that’s inherently true. “You look lovely.”

I glance down at the gown I wear—a deep maroon at the shoulders, fading into a black at the hemline. The sleeves hang deliberately off my shoulders, leaving me feeling rather vulnerable but also… unweighted. Free of the things I usually carry. The skirt doesn’t billow as I’m used to, rather it simply falls. 

Stella had painstakingly pinned my hair into some elaborate updo I couldn’t possibly replicate, sprinkling in ornamental pins with little black gems that were likely worth more than the entirety of what I already owned. She’d told me that I was just borrowing them for the night, and I didn’t protest. I had no need to keep them.   

“Thank you,” I smile. “Would you tell me what Starfall is about? Everyone insists on keeping it a secret.” 

Feyre stops for a moment as if surprised by the question. “It’s better left as a surprise. My first Starfall was…” A dreamy, far-away look appears in her eyes, “...magical. I wish I could relive it.” A laugh, then, “I guess I’ll have to live vicariously through you.”

“Are you harassing my mate, Auntie?”

I turn and find myself met with my mate, who looks utterly delectable in a maroon jacket that matches my dress. Fionn’s eyes meet mine, amusement sparkling as if he knows  _ exactly _ what I’m thinking. 

“Quite the opposite, I was keeping her company.” Feyre smiles and starts to retreat, her dress which looks to be crafted from starlight itself swishing around her ankles as she does. “But you’re here now, so I’ll be off looking for my own mate. Have to keep him out of trouble.” 

I wave mutely as she walks off, the diadem atop of her head sparkling even in the absence of sunlight. She seemed more goddess than High Fae to me, even on the mornings where I saw her sparring with Cassian or the one family dinner that they’d all spent most of bickering, though with smiles on their faces. 

An arm wraps around my waist and I turn back to Fionn, who leans down and presses his lips against my temple. “Good evening, love.” 

“Where’ve you been?” I hum, subconsciously leaning up for a kiss. He only laughs and obliges me. 

“Doing the rounds. Mom and Dad choose to watch Starfall at home now, so I get to play the role of General for the night. There are some Illyrian warlords that need… monitoring, to say the least. Not to mention the few members of the Court of Nightmares we allow to come.”

It’s not common that I get to see this side of him—the one that’s destined to command legions and lead armies. There have been a few days where he’s had to leave to attend to Court matters, coming back exhausted and cuddly. I certainly didn’t mind those days. 

Before I get to respond, his eyes sweep over my figure. “You look exquisite.” 

It’s impossible not to notice the way his pupils dilate or the subconscious way he licks his lips. The mating bond is still fresh, the remnants of the…  _ frenzy _ lingering in the air between us even a month later. 

I nip at his jaw, “Not happening, Archeron. You’ve already ruined my favorite nightgown.”

“Shh. I bought you another one, didn’t I?”

I laugh, though the sound is swallowed by the rest of the crowd as the calm conversation around us crescendos into excited whispers. I habitually latch onto Fionn, tightly gripping his bicep. “What’s happening?”

“Look up, Cali.”

I follow his command, a gasp falling from my lips. Streaks of light run across the sky, making it more fascinating than it already was. I still haven’t found the words, or the notes, to describe a night here. I barely notice as the music starts up once again. 

“Mother above…”

“Our ancestors thought they were actual stars, but we know now that they’re just spirits on an annual migration. During Amarantha’s reign they halved in numbers, but since then they’ve been slowly coming back. At least, that’s what I’m told.”

I barely comprehend his words, too entranced by the sky above me. In the permanence of autumn at home, there had been no days such as this. No change in the endless routine besides the rise and fall of the sun. 

Sure, there were smaller festivals among the common folk, but the nobility was so cutthroat that there had never been time for festivities that didn’t include careful political maneuverings. They were never for the simple celebration of the holiday, choosing instead to network and make not-so-subtle threats. 

But this—I can see Mor dancing below in the crowds, a vision in a shade of red I could’ve never hoped to pull off. Stella dances with a male I don’t recognize. Feyre and Rhys have disappeared, and Azriel sits on the edge of the cliff with Elain, a wing wrapped around her. This was something I had dreamed of for years: A family unabashed, full of love and affection. 

I turn back to Fionn, who simply stares at me with an all too familiar smile on his face. “Thank you for sharing this all with me.” 

“Thank you for letting me.” 

I gasp as a spirit splatters itself on the ground near me, whipping my head around as laughs sound around me. I feel Fionn still beside me, “Where’d you get those pins?”

“Hm?” I turn to him.

“The hairpins. WIth the black pearls.” 

I reach a hand behind me and touch my hair, remembering the pins that Stella had put in. “They’re from Stella. I’m borrowing them for the night, apparently.”

A breathless laugh, then, “They’re Mom’s. She saves them for special occasions. When she and Dad got married, the first time she went back to Scythia—and your first Starfall, apparently.” 

“Oh. Stella didn’t say anything.” 

Fionn shakes his head, “I’m sure she was in on it. They like to meddle like that.” 

I rest my hands on his hips, tugging him closer. “They mean well.” 

“I suppose,” he sighs, leaning his forehead against mine. “How would you feel about, I don’t know, getting our own place in Velaris?”

I still, lips parting in wonder. “I think that would be perfect.” 

It’s less of a kiss and more a clash of teeth, our smiles too wide and giddy. He leans over and nips my ear. “But first, I have to get you out of this dress.” 

“Only if you can find the zipper.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	7. Stella

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt piles itself onto my shoulders. That was my doing—extracting Calida had been my job. And while I had followed all the official mumbo-jumbo and kept war from breaking out… it might anyway, all because Eris couldn’t let it go. 
> 
> -
> 
> Stella hasn't been sneaking off to see shows on the Rainbow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) ya girl is back! inspiration has reappeared for the time being. i'm trying to milk it for all its worth before finals start and i'm sucked back into academics  
> 2) before anyone asks: part two will be here by the end of the week. don't fret!!!  
> 3) i wanted to walk away from fionn and calida and instead explore someone else. i will admit, there are very few context clues hinting at this, but there are some if you look very very very very closely.   
> 4) that inner circle fun i promised? next chapter. pinky promise (cause it's already half written)  
> 5) please enjoy!

Silence.

I could never handle it. Usually, it meant that the entire court was gone for the annual High Lord meeting. Or that something bad has happened, forcing all of them to depart to whatever part of the Court they had to. As a child, it had always worried me. My parents were never out of the house at the same time. When they were, I knew something had gone wrong. 

Especially now, in such peaceful times, little kept the rest of our family from coming and going through the House of Wind as they pleased. The constant  _ whoosh _ of a winnow or click of a door shutting was something I was accustomed to hearing. There was always noise, whether it was my parents murmuring downstairs or Uncle Cassian sparring with his victim for the day.

I’d come to associate silence with trouble. The lack of  _ any _ sort of caused noise left me anxious and jittery—waiting for some kind of attack. I hadn’t lived through any true conflict, but those years of my life spent in the war camps has left me vigilant and on edge.  

Today is no exception, but it’s for a different reason now. 

The sight from the Steppes is nothing but glowing, vast expanses of snow until the eye can see no farther. Battle leathers grace my figure for warmth and my wings fan out to circumvent the cold winds that blow snow in my eyes, hair whipping wildly behind me. I tuck my fingers under my arms to keep them warm, too nervous to even attempt a fire as I rock back and forth on my feet.

I turn at the sound of a winnow, coming face to face with a pair of green eyes. A sigh falls out of my lips as I barrel into him, tightly wrapping both arms and wings around his figure. He simply snakes his own around my waist and presses his lips to my hair, emanating affection. He raises a shield and the wind hushes.

“I missed you.”

I hum back a response, relishing in the distinctly woodsy scent that permeates my senses. He shivers in the small bits of cold that seep through the shield. I wrap my wings tighter around us as I pull back, weaving my hands through his blonde hair.

“Hey,” I smile, taut shoulders finally falling. 

His fingers trace the bottom edge of my wing with a feather-light touch as he drops a light kiss onto my temple. My heart flutters happily, wings twitching with the affection. 

Words fall away, unnecessary with the quiet, subtle contentedness that flows between us. The embroidery of his coat flows beneath my fingertips, the silk fabric soft beneath my cheek. I curl my fingers into the fabric, undoubtedly wrinkling the fine silk. Neither of us cares.

“How long?” 

It’s impossible to miss the downtick of his lips.

“A few hours. Sunset, if we’re lucky.”

I sigh unhappily, shifting my head to look up at him. “We could tell them, you know.” 

Em instantly tenses, eyes shuttering closed. The internal battle is clear. He’s so impossibly easy to read—to me. “Elle…”

“Do you really think my parents would care? They’re the most accepting, supportive people on this continent. I’m pretty sure there was a poll.”

A strained laugh, “It’s not you or your family. It’s—”

“Yours. I know.” 

He simply stares at me, eyes scanning my face as if trying to memorize my features. I flick my eyes away, unable to meet his eyes under such scrutiny. 

“ _ Mother _ , I wish we were mates.”

I just throw my head back and laugh, clinging to his biceps with both hands. “Wouldn’t that make life so much easier? Ancient rites and all that.”

Em leans down, cradling my face in his hands and leaving me breathless. We both smile, lips awkwardly clashing as we do. I pull back and laugh, trying to desperately absorb all the time I have with him. 

“How are you?” He asks, fingers interweaving themselves into the strands of my hair. 

“Same old, same old. Training and training and more training.” I shrug, trying to brush away the remnants of the loneliness that had been eating at me. Now wasn’t the time. I didn’t want my pestering feelings interfering with my time with Em. “How have you been?”

I notice the immediately tensing in his shoulders at the question, worry washing over me with the subconscious action. “Home is… home. Everything’s gone to hell after Calida. Autumn is trying to coerce us into allying with them in a war but… we remember what happened last time we went toe-to-toe with Night.”

Guilt piles itself onto my shoulders. That was my doing—extracting Calida had been my job. And while I had followed all the official mumbo-jumbo and kept war from breaking out… it might anyway, all because Eris couldn’t let it go. 

Though, could he really be blamed? We had taken his firstborn from him—had stolen away his daughter to our court and not apologized, or even given word that she was safe.  

“Hey, hey,” thumbs caress my cheeks, “don’t do that. None of it is your fault. In fact, you’re probably the only reason Calida is alive.”

I lean up and press my lips against his for a moment. Mother, I still can’t believe he’s here with me. “She’s so… alive now. It seemed like she had lived in a haze when she was in Autumn. Fionn brought her out.” 

“I didn’t know Calida that well, but she deserved better than that prison,” Em says. 

A sigh, “They spent so long sneaking around behind Eris’s back. And now that they don’t have to hide…” I stare up at him, smile falling the slightest bit off my face. “When do we get to be us? Not Emmerich-and-Stella-who-occasionally-exist-next-to-each-other-at-meetings. Us. Em and Elle.”  

Em only stares at me, smile falling off his face to be replaced by exhaustion and resignation. He laces his fingers through mine, kissing the back of my palm with a reverence that nearly scares me. He bites down on his lip, eyes going fuzzy as he gets absorbed into whatever’s going on in his head. My first instinct is to gently knock on his shield and ask what he’s thinking. 

His eyes meet mine. “Give me a week.”

I blink twice. “What?”

There’s a small crinkle in his brow and deep concentration in his eyes. I can see him running logistics and making checklists as a small smile spreads across his face. “Give me a week. Or two. I’m not exactly sure. Change your wards, my entrance might be…” his smile drops the smallest bit, “...unpleasant.” 

The joy that had engulfed me deflates. “No. Not if it puts you in danger.” 

Em shakes his head, leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. It’s desperate and rushed—a goodbye. “I’ll be okay. I promise. Fourteen days. Count them down.” 

The hairs on the back of my neck stand as he begins to rally his magic, power flooding the clearing we stand in. “Em, do—”

“I’ll see you soon.”

A  _ whoosh _ , the overpowering scent of pine needles, and nothing. 

Just silence.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	8. Emmerich

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he’s not looking at me anymore—his eyes are trained towards the window I’ve spent the better part of a week staring out of. “Mother’s tits.”  
> My eyes widen, “Dad!”
> 
> -
> 
> Emmerich makes quite the entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) look!! look!! it's here!! in a timely manner!!  
> 2) this chapter's full of feysand. we'll see what happens in the next one.  
> 3) is there anyone in particular that you'd like to see next? alesta and khalon have yet to be explored, and we could always go canon character-centric (plzsendmesomethingineedinspiration)  
> 4) please enjoy!

“Go talk to her.”

“Feyre, darling—”

“Don’t ‘darling’ me. She’s your daughter too.”

“I just don’t think th—”

“Rhys, she loves you.”

“Shouldn’t we ca—”

“Rhysand, if you suggest calling for anyone else, I’m going to set you on fire.” A pause, then a sigh. “Just because she spends most of her time at the House doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to see us, or that she’d rather see Mor or Cassian or Az. She is  _ our _ daughter. She may be a teenager, but she’s still the same little girl who used to run in here and track dirt on your rug.” Mom’s tone softens towards the end, making me wilt. “Go talk to her.” 

My parent’s conversation echoes from Dad’s study upstairs, the impatient tap of Mom’s foot thudding through the foundation of the townhouse. I don’t have the energy to tamp down my power as I usually do, wings on full display and blocking out the world. All I seem to be able to do is stare out the window, waiting for a head of blonde hair to appear in the yard, unscathed and unharmed with a smile. 

I nearly miss Dad’s approaching words. 

“Hey, Stel.”

I turn my head away from the window, coming face-to-face with Dad. Barely concealed concern shows in his eyes, brow furrowed in worry and confusion. I love my parents. I wouldn’t trade them for the world, no matter how busy or absent they were at times. I know that they love me. A year ago, I would’ve never lied to them.

The guilt that had hung in the background of my mind pushes its way to the forefront. 

“Stella?”

“Sorry,” I blurt, “just a little distracted.” 

Dad leans against the sill of the window I’ve been staring out of for the past week. It faces out into the courtyard of the townhouse, past the front door and farther out into the main streets of Velaris, where merchants laugh and sell their wares. Given that we all had wings and magic, it was rare that someone entered in through the front door. Usually, it only occurred when we hosted the Assembly or some other stuffy meeting that made me want to crawl into my room and hide. 

“What’s so interesting out there?” He taps on the glass, “this window seat’s been collecting dust since the townhouse was built. Suddenly, you’re glued to it.” 

I press my lips together, unable to bring myself to speak. I dip my chin and pull my legs to my chest, resting my chin on top of my knees. Dad sighs and sits himself down on the seat in the space vacated by my legs, staring at me with a look that I can’t read. Not particularly new. 

He opens and closes his mouth twice before finally speaking, “I know that your mom and I aren’t exactly the most… present parents, but we love you. Under any and all circumstances. There are few things you could do to change that.” 

My chest caves at his admission.  _ Not the most present parents _ ? “Bullshit. You and Mom were always here when I needed you. You still are.”

Dad’s shoulders relax, some unspoken weight lifting off of them. He doesn’t even reprimand me for my language, “I don’t what it is that’s bugging you, and I’m not going to ask. But I want you to know that whatever it is, you can talk to us.”

I try to smile, but the movement is strained. “I know that.”

But he’s not looking at me anymore—his eyes are trained towards the window I’ve spent the better part of a week staring out of. “Mother’s tits.”

My eyes widen, “Dad!”

“Not now, Stel.” 

I whip my head back to the window, eyes widening at the sight in the city, the wide berth around the unconscious figure lying down in the middle of the street. By the time it registers, Dad is already gone, likely to grab my uncles or Mom to address the unknown in the street. 

Everyone knew everyone in Velaris. If people weren’t jumping in to help, a stranger had somehow found their way through our wards. Normally, I would’ve found it just as worrisome as Dad. 

But I know exactly who it is lying in the streets. 

I open my wings and run to the nearest balcony, knocking a random vase off some table from the gust created as I propel myself into the air, rallying my magic in preparation for whatever has to be done as I do. My time in the air is an unusual blur as I tuck in my wings and dive, the cobblestone street cracking under the force of my landing. A collective sigh escapes the citizens, though I pay them no mind as I scramble towards the fallen figure, knees slamming into the ground as I turn them over.

Emmerich. 

Some part of me has shut off—it barely registers that it’s Em that lies nearly unconscious as I scan his figure for injury. A pained groan sounds from his lips, “Elle?”

“Shh, shh, you’re safe now.” I hush, hands oddly steady as I pull out the blade tucked into my boot and slice open my palm. “Drink.”

“What are you doing?”

I whip my head around, meeting the eyes of Fionn and his father, both of whom are adorned in their battle leathers, Siphons glowing and swords drawn. I shake my head, “Get a healer. Get a healer!” I shout at them, returning my focus to Em. The color has started to return to his face, but… something’s still wrong.

“Estella, get away from him.” That’s Mom, strength with an undercurrent of worry. 

I shake my head, “He needs a healer, Mom.” Another pained groan, I pull his head onto my lap and comb my fingers through his hair. I press my lips together, caving in on myself and desperately trying to keep the tears at bay.  _ He’d promised. _ “Mom! He needs a healer!”

The next few hours blurs together. I’m still not sure when Dad arrived on the street, only recognizing the darkness that had engulfed us as we were winnowed to the House. I don’t know when the healer arrives. I don’t know when I collapse and cling to my father like a little girl, breaths too fast and yet not fast enough. I don’t know when Mom pushes a cup of tea into my hands and kisses the top of my head. I don’t know when Aunt Elain drapes a blanket around my shoulders. I don’t know when morning turns into afternoon which turns into evening as the sun sets.

I only come to when the healer finally walks out of the room they’d put him in.

I immediately stand, ignoring the soft call of my name from whoever’s in the room with me. “Is he going to be okay?”

The healer hesitates, “He’s stable for now, but the poison is unlike anything I’ve seen. We’ll only know its effects with time.” 

“Can I see him?” The words flood out of me, ignorant of the confusion on everyone’s face around me. 

A nod, “He’s unconscious for now. It would be wise to keep him sedated until we know the effects of the poison.” 

I barely hear anything she says after the nod, bursting into the room and pulling a chair up next to the bed, grabbing his hand in mine and gripping it as hard as I dare. Em looks… peaceful. As if just sleeping. I press my fingertips against the pulse point in his wrist, concentrating on the  _ thump _ of his pulse. 

He’s alive. He’s here. He’s safe. 

“Estella.” 

I turn my head towards the doorway, finding my parents standing awkwardly within it. Dad’s hand rests on the small of Mom’s back, other one stuffed into his pant pocket. They both look weary—Mom subtly leans on the doorframe, as if unable to keep herself up. 

“Who is he?” Mom asks.

I stay silent for a moment, trying to put together the words. “We met at Starfall last year. Em was apart of the Spring Court delegation. We’d somehow ended up on the same cliff and just— talked. We kept correspondence and…” I trail off, not sure how to finish the thought, choosing instead to press my lips to the back of his hand, exhaustion finally settling in. 

“Do you know how he got here?” Dad asks, all business. Not that I blame him, He was High Lord before he was my father, no matter how much he insisted it was the other way around. He could never fool me. 

“I went to see him on the Steppes last week—when I was visiting Aly—and we talked about Fionn and Calida and… I guess he was tired of sneaking around and stealing time.” I let out a shuddering breath, “he promised me he’d be okay.”

Both of my parents are silent as I prepare for the lecture: what if he had been using me, I shouldn’t have adjusted the wards without saying something, what if someone had followed him, would war broke out because of this?

The last one did scare me. Fionn and Calida were mates. There was no way to tear those two apart, it would be a violation of our most ancient laws and customs. But Em and I… being in love wasn’t enough. It never was.

“What’s his full name?”

I look up at Dad, surprised at the quiet question. Their faces are unsurprisingly neutral—when it came to Court affairs, they were used to putting on a facade. Dad especially, even though they hadn’t needed them in a long time.  

“Emmerich Ciardha.” 

My parents are silent behind me, meaning that they’re speaking to each other through powers. I don’t even have it in me to be mad that they’re keeping me out of the loop, refocusing my attention on Em. 

Dad comes over and rests a hand on my shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss to my temple. “We’ll work it out with your aunt in the morning. All your obligations are postponed for the time being. We’ll take care of it.” 

I nod mutely. There isn’t anything I can do—I know this. There is no facet of my vast magic that will speed his recovery or save us from political havoc. I rise from my chair and lie down on the edge of the bed, resting my head on Em’s shoulder and putting my back to the door, careful not the jostle him too much.

I don’t sleep at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


	9. Announcement

Hello everyone!

I know it's been a while, and if you've still stuck around, I want to say thank you first and foremost.  _Wasteland_ has bounced around my head for nearly a year now, and I'm so so very excited to continue and expand this AU, specifically my second-generation OCs. 

I'm here to announce that  **Fionn and Calida will be getting a full-length fic!**

 _But Jade,_ you may ask,  _what about_ _Runaway?_

Runaway will remain here, and much of the full-length fic will be based in what I've already established in this one-shot collection. However, these one-shots  **are not canon** within the new fic. I don't want to restrict myself to these one-shots I've written so long ago, so I won't. However, I'm proud of this writing and don't wish to take it down. I may take it down once I've posted the first chapter of the new fic to prevent confusion, but it will stay up until further notice. Do not fret!

 _But Jade,_ _when can we expect this new fic_ _? The school year is starting back up. Will you have time to write?_

Currently, the fic is still in the plotting phase. I plan to very thoroughly plot this so that it doesn't end up a complete mess. I'm also working on a very tentative rewrite of  _We'll Go Together_ at the moment, though that's been set on the backburner for now. Quite honestly, I don't know if I'll have time to write. Knowing me, I'll find a way to make time, which usually results in the sacrifice of sleep. **I hope to have the first chapter up by the end of September at** **the very latest.**  

_But Jade, if you don't plan on releasing it for so long, why bother with an announcement so soon? Now we have to wait!_

Simple: **I want your input on what you want to see out of a full-length fic.** While I, of course, write out of personal enjoyment, I also write to bring my reader joy (and pain, occasionally). For example: Fionn or Calida's POV? Perhaps both? Should I stick with the first person or transition back into third like the rest of  _Wasteland_? What is your ideal length of a fic?

These questions are hard to answer on my own without a little nudge in the right direction. Let me know which parts of  _Runaway_ you loved, and which parts you could do without. Don't be afraid to tell me what you want to see out of this fic.

 

_Can you give us a sneak peek?_

Of course! Though please note that this is not the official summary to be posted with the story, but rather a small blurb. I tend to use quotes from my writing in my summaries, though as nothing had been written yet, I've decided to write this instead. See you guys soon!

* * *

_Fionn Archeron knows better than to go seeking trouble—not that it's ever stopped him. Taking an unannounced, last minute trip to the Day Court might count as seeking trouble, but it's not as though anyone will find out, right?_

_It seems that his time trouble seems to find him all on its own in the form of Calida Vanserra, the eldest daughter of Eris Vanserra himself._

_When Calida uncontrollably winnows in the Day Court, Fionn knows he should take her right back home. Immediately. Wars had been started over far less, and peace had reigned far too long to let something as ridiculous as Eris' parenting methods get in the way of it._

_But the two come to a quiet understanding that leads him to make the most reckless decision of his life—take Calida into the streets of the Day Court and show her the world that her father so desperately tries to hide from her._

_If he'd known that it would end the long-standing yet fragile peace that had settled over Prythian, he still wouldn't have changed any of it._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me on tumblr @feyreofthewildfire  
> kudos and comments give me the motivation to get through the piles of homework and write! warning: i tend to word vomit in my responses  
> have a lovely, lovely day!


End file.
